


Every Drowning Fish

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Stories from the Cupboard [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Librarians, Maine Fisherman, Old Fashioned Love Story, fisherman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young woman facing college graduation and a safe marriage to a rising businessman in Virginia is strangely unsettled.  She visits friends in a coastal town in Maine where she meets a taciturn fisherman who reluctantly keeps rescuing her from stupid, embarrassing situations.  Mutually unimpressed, neither one of them realizes that Cupid is gleefully aiming his sharpest arrows just at them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a nice, old-fashioned love story.

Carolyn Mains leaned back against the hull of the gently bobbing sailboat and gazed into the crystal blue sky. How relaxed she felt! How right her father had been to send her here for Easter vacation instead of Florida with her sorority sisters. At Miami she would have attended an endless round of parties and returned to the University of Virginia as confused as ever. However improbable it had sounded at first, the small fishing village off the craggy coast of Maine was exactly where Carolyn needed to be. Maybe this week away from Ted and senior activities would give her time to think about her future.

Carolyn fell in love with Sandy Harbor the moment she’d gotten off the train several days ago. This had been her first opportunity to visit Jared and Mary since they‘d moved here last summer. She could understand why they‘d chosen this area. She‘d fallen in love with the town as soon as she‘d seen it. Austere frame buildings, weathered by the rain and salt air, stared reproachfully out into the bay where small fishing boats bobbed in the water. It was a scene straight out of a travel book. But Jared Bateman, her host and long-time family friend, assured her that very few ‘summer people’ had discovered the town.

What amazed Carolyn was the beautiful weather. Jared said that April in Maine was generally stormy, but this year the worst weather predicted was a possible rain shower.

“It’s very unusual,” Jared said as he puffed on his pipe. He was a writer whose articles on New England made him a prominent author in a small, but distinguished circle of naturalists and historians. His wife Mary was a native of Maine, terse and sharp spoken, but motherly to the motherless Carolyn.

It saddened Carolyn to think of her mother. Janet Mains, lovely and gentle, had succumbed to tuberculosis seven years before. Carolyn could never think of her mother as being anything less than an all-knowing angel whose golden hair framed her spiritual face like a crown. Her father had even called his wife ‘Angel.’ But now there was nobody to talk to. Herbert Mains, her father, tried, but he was generally wrapped up in business dealings. Carolyn loved his white, wavy hair, his quick, nervous waddling walk, and his darting blue eyes. But he had no idea how to help her.

Time was passing so quickly. Carolyn didn’t have time to think. If only she could get outside her world and look at her life through other eyes.

Carolyn glanced at the twinkling diamond on her left hand. The week after her college graduation, she was supposed to marry Ted. It was to be a simple ceremony in Roanoke with just a few people in attendance on both sides. Since Carolyn and her maid of honor, her college roommate Pam, were both graduating a few days before, Carolyn and Ted had decided on simplicity. She knew her father would miss walking his only daughter down the aisle, but he didn't object. The only one who did was Ted's widowed mother, but he said he could handle her. 

Then after the wedding, that left Carolyn with the rest of her life. And that was the problem. She could teach if she wanted, but Ted would be pleased if she chose to become simply the proper wife of a Roanoke lawyer and a young matron in the upper middle class set. Either way, the pattern of her future was secure, so secure, in fact, that she wanted to scream. But wasn’t there security in knowing what the future held, security in being handed from her father’s care to Ted’s care? There would be no danger in her life, and no adventure, either. She felt that there was something she was missing.

Slowly, the fact that the rope in her hand had become slack penetrated her consciousness. Carolyn decided that the prudent thing to do was to clear her mind of its woolgathering about the future and focus on her present situation. She glanced up at the sails hanging limply. The wind had stopped blowing and the sailboat was drifting in big, lazy circles. Becalmed! And the shore was more than a mile away.

Carolyn looked around for help. Out on the horizon puttered a small fishing boat. She jumped up and down, waved her scarf, and nearly capsized her tiny craft. The fishermen must’ve seen her, though. The distant boat adjusted its angle and slowly chugged her way.

 

Some fifteen minutes later the boat pulled alongside. A tall, well-muscled man all in black, from his turtleneck sweater to his beard and moustache, threw a grappling hook onto the sailboat. Carolyn grabbed the mast as the sailboat trembled and started through the water with a jerk.

“Thank you, Captain,” she called. The tall fisherman turned and his icy blue stare froze the smile on her lips. Spurned, she looked at the other sailor, a short, skinny runt of a man in stocking cap, striped shirt, and dirty dungarees. He smiled a wide, jagged-toothed, idiotic grin at her. But it warmed her and she smiled back in gratitude.

Carolyn self-consciously picked at her light blonde hair. It was flipped up on its short ends, was held back by a yellow-striped tie, and was probably now mussed by the spanking sea breeze. She wished she’d worn her white pleated skirt instead of white slacks. Some instinct told her that this captain disapproved of women in slacks, or women on boats, or women anywhere except in a kitchen.

But what right did he have to judge her? He was just one of those old, taciturn Maine fisherman she’d thought was a myth. But as she watched him steadying the grappling hook line and guiding the wheel, she realized he was young, not much older than herself, maybe five, surely not more than ten years older. And good looking. Ruggedly handsome, if there were such a thing, with sharp angles and craggy brows to his weather-beaten face. A wild man, probably strongly opinionated, very set in his ways, but very much an individual, an individual one couldn’t forget. 

Carolyn was very embarrassed that she had been becalmed. She was more of a sailor than that, but today she’d been thinking and hadn’t watched the wind. And, now, to be rescued by this man who was doing nothing to relieve her embarrassment was really making her feel unbalanced.

Her father always had such a way with people. He joked and made people feel at ease. Maybe she could break the ice with this fisherman.

“Captain,” she called. “I bet you don’t think much of my sailing.”

The captain turned and his blue eyes, not so savage anymore, studied her. “Haven’t seen you do any.” He picked up his binoculars. “In fact, you don’t even know enough not to stand up in a boat.”

Carolyn blushed. One of the cardinal laws of sailing was to remain seated or crouched, and never, ever stand up. Luck had been on her side, or surely she could have taken a well-deserved dunk into the ocean. She had been wrong to stand up in a boat, true, but she wasn’t about to admit it to this obstinate know-it-all who seemed to be assessing her with nothing but reproach.

“I, I guess I got excited.”

He gave her a look that said that it was just the sort of thing he might expect from a silly female, and then he turned back to his boat.

Carolyn made no further attempts at conversation. Thankful, there was no need, as the engine sounds of the little fishing boat would have drowned out speech.

As they neared the harbor, the captain called to her, “Where are you berthed?!”

“Jared Bateman’s!” she hollered back.

Carolyn saw the scowl that marred the captain’s features and knew what he was thinking. Jared Bateman did not work with his hands. And to this man of the outdoors, manual work tested the worth of a real man. Intellectual endeavor was merely playing, something a silly female might do between fainting spells. 

 

At Jared’s pier, the captain and his crewman jumped from their boat to the rough planks. Carolyn threw the line to the friendly little crewman, and then she stared up at the captain’s hand reaching down for her. The long, work-hardened fingers motioned impatiently at her, but she coolly snubbed the hand and started up the ladder under her own power. But the ladder was slippery, and as she stepped from the ladder to the pier, she felt her foot slide. The captain’s viselike hand caught her upper-arm and as she tipped sideways, his other arm grabbed her around the waist. For a moment she was suspended in air in his arms, and then he set her down on the pier as lightly as if she were merely thistledown. 

Automatically, she pushed herself out of his arms and blushed profusely. She felt as out of sorts with her wind tossed hair and slightly sunburned face as she must’ve appeared to him. Part of her awkward anger was because she’d had to be rescued. But part of it was because she’d felt less of a woman in his critical eyes. What difference did it make anyway about his impression of her, she demanded of herself. He was nothing to her. She’d never see him again.

The captain stuck his thumbs through his belt hoops and waited. His blue eyes gazed at her levelly, critically. Now he would make her grovel. At that moment, Carolyn hated this man intensely.

“Thank you for saving me,” she mumbled. “I appreciate all of your help.’ She turned away quickly and walked to where the crewman stood with a kind, pleasant smile on his face.

“Thank you so much for all you did for me,” she said and her voice was warm with sincerity. “I appreciate it so much.”

But all the little man did was to smile that idiotic grin back at her, and Carolyn blinked in confusion.

“Wimpy can’t hear you and he sure as hell can‘t answer you,” came the captain’s deep voice from behind her. “He’s a deaf mute.”

Carolyn whirled in shock. “He did with his eyes!“ she declared, then pushed past the maddening sea captain.

But the fisherman grabbed her arm. “Come on, I’ll deliver you to the Bateman’s front door, or you might get lost along the way.”

Carolyn was prepared to protest, but had little chance as the man steered her firmly across the pier and then along the flowery path toward the house.

Mary Bateman stared at the two standing at her front door. She‘d ripped the door open before Carolyn‘s hand had touched it. “Kitten?” she asked with Carolyn‘s cradle name. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Carolyn grumbled.

The fisherman released Carolyn’s arm and touched his cap toward Mary. “Afternoon, Mrs. Bateman. I’ll leave this one in your care. You might have your husband teach her some basic skills in boat handling.” 

Carolyn drew her breath in to protest, but he gave Carolyn a sideways, scathing glance. “I wish you luck.” He nodded at each in turn. “Ladies. Good afternoon.“ 

Shocked, Carolyn turned to say something to the captain, but he was already headed back toward his boat. Carolyn and Mary watched as the Captain and Wimpy tied the Bateman sailboat to the pier. Then the fisherman swung back onto his boat without a backward glance at the Bateman house. Carolyn waved. And Wimpy, at least, had the humanity to touch his finger to his stocking cap in the direction of the two women watching. Then he followed his captain onboard. The engine of the little fishing boat roared to life and chugged away from the pier.

“Well, what was that all about?” Mary Bateman, her hostess, asked as Carolyn entered the cottage. “And why was Captain Roiter standing on the pier with his arms wrapped around you? And why were you clinging to him like you hadn’t seen white bread for a week, and he was a whole loaf of it?”

“Oh, you saw that little drama?” Carolyn asked, embarrassed that she’d been seen.

“Oh, it was hard to miss. It must be some story. You left in our sailboat and returned on a fishing boat. Not many people can claim that experience.”

“I got becalmed and some arrogant fisherman towed me ashore. Do you know who he is? Besides his name?” Carolyn asked as she ran a glass of water for herself. She felt like throwing the cool contents over her hot face and head, but then she would’ve had to have mopped up the floor.

“You just had the pleasure of meeting our esteemed Captain Peter Roiter.” Mary folded her skinny arms over her gray flannel A-line skirt. “Tell me, what did you think of our own Captain Ahab? Full of local color, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’d like your own Moby Dick better. A killer whale would seem welcome compared to this captain of yours. And if you mean that your captain is like the rock bound coast of Maine with personality to match, I suppose you could say he’s full of local color; yes.”

“You know, Jared would have given his eye teeth to have been with you today.”

“Jared? But why?”

At that moment, Jared rushed into the kitchen of the cottage and answered his own question. “Was that Roiter that just left?! Why didn’t you ask him to stay?!”

“Because it wasn’t a social call,” Mary answered. “Roiter just snatched Carolyn from a watery grave out in the bay. She got becalmed, and now he’s thinking that we’re negligent by allowing a greenhorn to sail by herself.”

Just hearing Mary‘s accurate assessment of the situation brought all of Carolyn‘s anger and frustration back. “Whatever would you want with that obstinate man, Jared?!” she demanded.

“I’ve been trying to do a series of articles on him and his way of life, but he won’t even talk to me. He’s a part of Americana that is fast disappearing, Caro. He’s almost legendary.” Suddenly he snapped his bony fingers. “I tell you what, Caro, we have to thank Roiter for saving you!”

“Whatever—“

“Just listen. As your host, it is my duty to thank him.”

“Phone him.”

“He doesn’t have a telephone. No, we’ll drive over there and maybe this time he’ll listen to me.”

Mary pulled away from the wall. “Just a minute, Joseph Pulitzer. Carolyn needs to freshen up. And, besides, Roiter won’t even be home yet.”

 

After an hour of impatient pacing, Jared finally managed to trundle a refurbished Carolyn into his Mustang. She had changed into a light blue knife-pleated skirt with navy blue and white striped top. Chalk white button earrings and a matching single strand necklace gracing her neck finished the look. She now felt appropriately dressed to meet any head of state. Surely, she should pass muster with one judgmental fisherman. She mentally crossed her fingers and hoped.

“I suppose you think I’m mercenary,” Jared said as he drove through the sparse countryside. This was definitely a coastal plain with little to see except the tough grass that has either too stupid or too stubborn to die out. “But I’m willing to try anything to talk to Roiter.”

Carolyn glanced at the tweed cap he’d pulled over his thinning hair and the pipe held firmly in his lips. Despite the fact that he was hot on the trail of a story, she could see no hint of excitement on his calm face. Mary said the only way she could tell if he were agitated was when he paced, and he’d just finished an hour of that.

“Mercenary or not, I’ll help you any way I can, Jared.”

“We’ll see how well we do,” Jared said as he stopped in front of a weather-beaten cottage.

“We’d like to come in and talk to you, Captain,” Jared explained after Roiter answered his door.

For a moment, as they stood looking up at the captain looming in his doorway, Carolyn thought they had lost their opportunity. But then the captain stepped aside and let them enter.

The interior of the Cape Cod cottage was sparsely furnished with well-worn colonial furniture. Carolyn had the feeling that an antique dealer would have a field day here. But there was no softness, no plants, no billowy curtains, no landscape pictures, and no woman’s touch. Everything was cold and functional, a man’s domain, bare and comfortless.

“Caro told me what you did this afternoon for her. On behalf of her father, I wanted to thank you.”

Those frigid blue eyes gazed levelly at Jared, than at Carolyn. No other part of his face showed any sign of being alive, and Carolyn knew that Roiter saw through Jared’s story. Apparently, Jared knew it, too.

“Okay, Roiter, it was just an excuse to get past your front door. I just wanted to talk to you about the articles again.”

In the silence that followed, Carolyn became aware of many things. She smelled the baking cornbread and was amazed to think that Roiter was a cook. But who else would do it for him? Apparently, he kept this house spotless, too, even though there was no life in it. Here was a man sufficient unto himself, totally self-reliant, needing no one, missing no one. He probably had no idea where Wimpy lived or even what his baptized name had been. Roiter probably did not know the name of his neighbors nor had been in any of their home, nor they in his. Carolyn shivered. How lonely he must be! But then he was used to his life.

“If you change your mind, Roiter, drop over anytime. Thanks once again for what you did for Caro.”

Jared relit his pipe as he walked back to the Mustang, and Carolyn realized that he wasn’t angry.

“I thought you wanted his story.”

“Not to the point of coercing him. I wouldn’t make him do a thing to compromise his individuality. If I ever get his story, I want him to come to me out of his own free will.”

“You like him, don’t you? But why? He wasn’t friendly. He never said one word to us.”

Jared paused as he held the car door open for her. He looked up at the sky, but he wasn’t seeing the fleecy clouds. “Because he represents something the rest of us have lost, or maybe have just forgotten about. He doesn’t need the sham of our modern world. I guess I’m just jealous of him.”

She smiled wryly. “You’re not as interested in his story as much as you are with him, aren‘t you?”

“I’d just like to talk to him, Caro,” Jared said as he drove down the road. “I wager his mind has horizons it would take a lifetime to explore. I‘d just like to sit at his feet and listen.”

“But first you have to get him to speak.” She laughed lightly. “And, oh, Jared, I don’t think anybody can do that. He could probably outlast the Sphinx.”

He nodded sagely.

She tilted her head at him. “Are you sure he’s interesting? He could be only what he seems: taciturn and antisocial. Hogwash could come out of his mouth, or something so tainted it couldn‘t be printed.”

“You have no romance in your soul, Caro.”

“How can you accuse a college senior of that?”

“I know you’re going against type. These are, after all, your years of idealism. You should think that obstinate fisherman is terribly romantic.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Why do you think I don’t?”

He gave her a critical look over the top of his horn rimmed glasses. “Because you don’t have stars in your eyes. It wasn‘t love at first sight.”

Carolyn laughed merrily. At least this afternoon’s adventure had brought her out of her doldrums.

On the way home, Jared automatically stopped at the small grocery store in the village and bought a loaf of bread and a bottle of milk. “Mary always likes to buy some fresh in the middle of the week.” He also added a sack of saltwater taffy that he handed to Carolyn. “For my sailor-girl,” he said with a sly wink and walked calmly away. 

Honestly, Carolyn thought, he never gets excited about a thing!


	2. Chapter 2

Carolyn laid aside the new issue of SATURDAY REVIEW OF LITERATURE. The smell of Mary’s Wednesday night meatloaf tickled her nose, and she walked into the kitchen to help Mary with the cabbage and raisin salad that always went with it.

“Didn’t have any luck, did you?” Mary asked as Carolyn whacked away at the head of cabbage.

“With Roiter? No. And, you know, I think Jared didn’t really mind.”

Mary paused and a crooked smile crossed her face. “It’s the mystery about Roiter that fascinates Jared, I think. He’d love to be Roiter’s Boswell, but then part of Roiter’s appeal would be gone and he’d be an ordinary man to Jared.”

Carolyn looked up with a grin. “It’s like Don Quixote’s dragons. As long as he never has to face the challenge, it will remain fresh and mysterious somewhere in the future.” She shrugged. “The man could just be boring.”

“I thought that, too. But Jared is really hooked by Roiter’s intrigue.”

“Maybe it’s the eternal mystery of the Sphinx,” Carolyn described as her eyes got wild and mysterious. “Inscrutable, the lure of the unknown, the unexplored river, the vastness of the underground cave.”

Mary laughed. “You have been reading your share of historical fiction, haven’t you? You‘ve got the adventurer‘s soul.”

“Jared started it. He says Roiter has a deep philosophy and an acute mind that would require a lifetime of probing.”

“You’re right,“ Mary agreed. “Jared hopes Roiter would have an unschooled, but systematic and intelligent brain that would be wise in the simple ways of nature and thus all life. Then Jared could educate Roiter and focus his philosophy with books. Then they could have discussions. Jared also wants to learn from Roiter.”

“Sort of an intellectual unpolished diamond-in-the-rough?” Carolyn asked.

“That’s right. But I don’t have the imagination of Jared’s creative mind.”

“Me, neither, Mary. All I see in Roiter is an uncivil, antisocial, smug bore.”

“But a darn good looking one, don’t you think?” Mary asked.

Carolyn blushed under Mary’s direct gaze. Mary patted her arm. “Don’t worry, honey, that woman-hating guy would raise up the ‘dander’ of any self-respecting female. I just wish some woman would make him fall hard and then leave him flat. I guess we just want to prove he’s human. We girls don’t like having a guy around that doesn’t appreciate us.” At that moment, Jared wandered in, puffing on his pipe. “Now, take Jared here. He’s an old puddin’ from way back, aren’t you, dear?”

Jared looked up absently. “Hmm? Oh, whatever you say, dear.” He scooped up a handful of raisins and left.

Mary and Carolyn started to laugh. “And then there’s the business of being taken for granted,” Mary declared. 

“Mary, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Mary answered as she continued her meal preparations.

“Was my mother certain she was doing the right thing when she married my father?”

Mary gave her a sharp look. “Why do you ask something like that?”

“Not that she didn‘t love my father, exactly. I know she did. But maybe that wasn‘t the right time, that she wasn‘t ready to settle down yet.”

“We’d had those years in the Peace Corps,” Mary answered. “Janet was ready.” She thought back. “I remember her lying in our tent in Uganda and rereading your father’s letters. He never was the adventurer that she was.” She grinned. “I guess I should say like we were. Janet and I were globe trotters, but we married old stay-at-homes. Everybody seemed to like that arrangement just fine. When Janet and I got the gypsy dust out of our systems, then we could don the apron and work gloves without a second thought. We’d gotten adventuring out of our systems. And our guys waited for us until that miracle happened. Generally, it‘s the other way around with gals back home waiting for their guys.” She shot Carolyn a look. “But, yes, she was ready.” She frowned. “What’s wrong? Your wedding’s coming up, and you’re getting cold feet?”

“Something like that. Oh, Mary, I don’t want to seem ungrateful. Ted is a wonderful, dependable man with a sparkling future ahead of him. He’ll probably go into politics, and I could wind up in the Governor’s Mansion, or even in Washington D.C. What girl would want to get up those prospects? I‘d be so grateful. I‘d be getting the solid, dependable future any girl should want.”

“You should base a marriage on more than gratitude, you know.”

Carolyn grimaced. “Darn it, Mary! You could always cut through the crap, couldn’t you?”

“That’s what your mother loved about me, too.”

Carolyn studied her. “I’m sure that was just one of the many reasons. I know it’s just one of my many.”

“I wish your mother was here to advise you.”

“I think she is. I’m just hearing it through your voice.”

“Yes, she seemed contented with your father. I was the one who kept globe trotting.”

“You need to write the story of your travels, Mary. Now there’s a book I’d read. Bet it’d be a best seller, too.”

Mary snorted. “For fiction.”

“For thrilling memoirs.”

Mary snorted again. “Best seller, huh?! Wouldn’t that make Jared mad! I’d gain literary renown and lose my husband.”

“No, you wouldn’t. The money would be rolling in. After it stopped, THEN maybe he’d divorce you.”

“I’d come live with you and Ted.”

A pain flickered across Carolyn’s face. “IF that’s where I’ll be? Who knows?”

“What does your father say about all of this?”

“He doesn’t know. Well, not all of it. He’s trying to get Frances back.”

“Is she still down in Old Mexico?”

“Yes. She’s down on some beach with Andy somebody-or-other. All I know is that he has a row of teeth that would make any shark jealous. Outside of that and bleached blonde hair and a gorgeous tan, I don’t know what else he has.”

“Frances.”

Carolyn nodded. “Yeah. She’s trying to reach her Inner Child through painting, she says. Father says she could do that back in Roanoke or Spokane or some out of the way farm in out-state Nebraska. He’s right, of course. But she’s going through a phase, he says. He’ll be ready to take her back, too. My mother broke him in well. Yes, he’d take Frances back in a heartbeat. Even if she comes back with sand in the crack of her ass and a bun in the oven thanks to old Andy somebody-or-other.”

“Carolyn Abigail Mains!” Mary pretended to be shocked, but she was laughing too hard.

“Just quoting my brother, that’s all,” Carolyn grumbled. “I think Seth is pretty correct on that matter, though.”

Mary wiped away happy tears. “What does he think of your situation with Ted?”

“He doesn’t. He and Bonnie have joined the Hippie scene out in California and can‘t be bothered with the mundane world.”

“I thought he was teaching economics at U.C.L.A.”

“That’s just his day job,” Carolyn grumbled. “At night he recites Beatnik poetry at love-ins.”

“Beatnik? I thought he was a Hippie.”

“He’ll embrace whatever is currently out there. Existentialism. Brahaminism. Now he’s talking about going to India to meet a mystic named Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. All kinds of celebrities are flocking to meet the Maharishi at his ashram or his mountain top or wherever he has vibrated to lately.”

“I’ve heard of him. Sounds like you aren’t a fan.”

I think Seth and Bonnie should have their feet more on the ground. They have two children that still need to be raised and educated.”

“Now, you’re sounding older than Seth and Bonnie.”

“Someone needs to be the adult, at least under David and Linda are on their own.”

 

Later that evening, Ted called again. And talked of marriage, as Carolyn knew he would again.

“I saw a lovely old home for sale out in the suburbs today, Carrie.”

She hated it when he called her that name, but he seemed to think it was charming. At this point, though, she hated to mention it to him. She felt she was neglecting him the way it was. She didn’t want to discourage him further, or he might rethink their engagement.

She pulled herself back to what he was saying. “I’m sorry. What was that, Ted?”

“I said that the Sawyer home has come on the market,” he repeated patiently.

“Isn’t that the one fairly close to the mayor’s home?”

“Yes, wouldn’t that be significant? Having the mayor for a neighbor. Mother thinks it would be so prestigious and a wonderful opportunity for someone.”

Then why doesn’t your mother buy it for herself, she wanted to ask, but knew she would only sound petty and quarrelsome. What was her problem, anyway? She wasn’t a great fan of Mrs. Davison, but she thought she could get along with Alma. At least, she always thought she could. How come everything just seemed all out of sorts for her?

“It’s a lovely Dutch Colonial with a lot of rooms. An extension was added about five years ago. It would make an accommodating home for a large, growing family.”

Now Ted had her assuming the role of Mother of the Coming Generation. Was he planning on keeping her barefooted and pregnant? Was her future supposed to be only diaper rashes and snotty noses? A college degree, and then PTA meetings and recipe clubs?

 

“Where are you off to this morning, Caro?” Jared asked as he finished his second cup of coffee

“Oh, I thought I’d bike into the village and talk to the librarian for awhile.”

Jared gave her a sly grin. “Anna Featherman allows talking in the library?”

“She won’t be there today. Julie’s there on Thursdays now.”

“Oh? Whatever blasted Anna out of there?”

“The board. Apparently they are easing Anna out the door, but they’re having to do it with a steam shovel,” Mary answered as she set more coffee on the table. “I heard it at the Emporium last week.”

Jared winked at Carolyn. “That’s better than reading it in the weekly rag. And more accurate. Women at a dress store always do know what’s going on in a small town.”

“Only place I know better,” Mary remarked dryly, “is the barber shop.”

Carolyn laughed and Jared winced. “Ouch, woman! Your claws are sharp this morning!”

“Or the pool hall. Or the filling station.”

“All right! All right! Men are a bunch of old women! Caro and I get the picture! Don’t we, Caro?”

“All too well.”

“Want more coffee, Carolyn?” Mary asked, holding the coffee pot aloft.

Carolyn waved it away. “I’m going to pass. If I’m going to be biking all over the island this morning, I don’t want to be having to hunt up civilized facilities every so often.”

“See you for lunch?”

“Oh, I think I’ll just grab some chowder in town and maybe some fruit cobbler. I’ll just dream away the day, first at the library with Julie and then maybe I’ll head down to the beach after lunch.” 

“Well, if you change your mind there will always be some leftover Boston baked beans here and cold biscuits from breakfast.”

“That’s sounds good, too. I’ll see what the day brings. Just don’t make anything fancy for me, Mary.”

“Have you seen anything fancy yet?” Mary asked with a sweep of her hand.

Carolyn smiled. “It’s all been very good, Mary. I feel very much at home here.”

“Good. That’s the important thing.”

“Well, I’m off.”

“Oh, Caro?”

She stopped. “Yes, Jared?”

“If you see Captain Roiter, give him my best.” He gave her his best wicked smile.

See gave him THE look. “I suspect that Captain Roiter will be miles of anywhere that I will be today. But I‘ll remember your greeting, in case I see the elusive seaman.”

“Just wanted to keep my name out there, that‘s all. And you’ve been my best contact in a long time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Jared. I‘ll see what I can do,” she said in jest.

 

Carolyn biked into Sandy Harbor with the wind blowing in her hair. What a glorious morning! Seagulls wheeled over her head, reminding her that she was in the harbor of a very picturesque fishing village. People paid big money to rent cottages here, and she was staying free! And the food was great! And the company greater! What more could she possibly want?

Peace of mind, she thought, as she parked her bicycle in the bicycle stand in front of the small public library. Shut up! she thought. Don’t ruin my day. She finger-combed her windblown hair as she crossed the appropriately creaky and weathered board of the porch in front of the library. How quaint can you get, she wondered with a grin.

She had just settled her hand on the inward opening door when it was suddenly ripped open, and she sprawled off-balance forward. She saw the hulking outline of a large body looming in front of her, and then she collided with that body. Her hands grasped for purchase, but still she floundered as she heard air being knocked out of the other person in a huge “O-o-f-f-f!” Arms wrapped around her as she heard books hitting the pine flooring around her. One book struck her ankle on the way down. Carolyn felt the sharp blow and yipped in pain.

“Lyn?! Are you okay?!” a frantic female voice demanded as new, smaller hands grabbed her arm.

The two who’d collided rocked unsteadily for a few moments, then regained their balance as the world once again righted itself.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

That voice! She knew that voice!

Carolyn looked up with wide eyes into the equally startled eyes of Peter Roiter.

“You!” He released her, none too gently.

She flashed him her ten carat smile. “Good morning, Captain! Fancy meeting you at the library,” she babbled to cover her embarrassment. “You’re a library patron, too, huh?”

“Here are your books, Captain,” the librarian offered. 

“Were they damaged in their fall?” he inquired with worry in his voice as he accepted them from her for the second time in five minutes.

“They are fine. And you?”

“I will heal,” he answered gruffly. “Good day, Mrs. Hargrove.” The only salutation he gave Carolyn was a glare. “You will excuse me, ladies.” Then he stomped out of the library.


	3. Chapter 3

“Are you really okay, Lyn?” the librarian asked as she touched Carolyn’s arm.

“Fine, Julie. Just a little shaken.”

“I’ve been telling the library board that we need to cut a window in that door, and now you’ve proven it.”

“That’s never happened before? Nobody’s ever collided there before?”

“No, not until today.”

“Not until Captain Roiter and I crossed paths with it between us,” Carolyn mumbled. “The door never had a chance.”

“I’ll take these books and check them in. Got in mind what you want to take out today?”

“Oh, I’m going to browse over here in Classical Literature.”

“Wow! You read that, and on vacation, too! I’m impressed.”

“I learned to love Greek literature while I was getting my degree in English.”

“English, hmm? And you like reading stories beside the ocean. How romantic!”

Carolyn paused and seemed to look into the past. “I think the seashore is the perfect place to read the Classics. Those people lived so close to the seas that the roar of the waves is echoed in their literature.” 

“Wow! I’m impressed again! Maybe you should be a writer yourself.”

Carolyn brought herself back to the present day. “Who knows? Maybe I will. College will soon be behind me, and I’ll be having to make some kind of decision about my future employment.”

Julie nodded to the diamond on Carolyn’s finger. “I thought that was pretty well decided.”

Carolyn glanced at her ring, too. “I suppose.”

“You don’t sound convinced. Tell you what Do you have your teaching credentials?”

“Sure. I picked them up along with a Bachelor of Arts. At the time, though, I didn’t know why I took the educational courses. Maybe so I’d have something to fall back on, I suppose.”

Julie smiled. “’Those that can, do,’” she quoted. “’Those who can’t, teach.’”

“Something like that.”

“Tell you what. Mrs. Baxter may not be teaching English in the fall. You should talk to my father-in-law. He’s on the school board.”

“That would be a wonderful contact, I’ll admit. But my credentials are for the state of Virginia, not Maine.”

“Credentials transfer, don’t they?”

“Well, sure, but--”

Julie grinned. “But you don’t know.”

Carolyn sighed in relief. “Yes.”

“Tell you what. My lunch hour is just starting. Let’s grab something at the Oyster Bar. Maybe I can talk into coming back here in the fall. I think we could be great friends, and I so need a co-conspirator in this town!”

Carolyn laughed. “I’d planned on staying in town for lunch. anyway. Sounds great! I’m in the mood for seafood chowder. How about you?”

“I’m always in the mood for seafood chowder! Let me just lock the door, and we‘ll be on our way.”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“No more bending my arm trying to get me here to teach.”

“Ah,” Julie said in disappointment. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. I’ve really enjoyed your company since you came to stay with the Batemans. I’ll miss you when you leave. That’s why I think it’d be a good thing if you were here for keeps.”

“In this small town?! I’m used to Roanoke, Virginia, Julie. There’s quite a bit of difference. Sandy Harbor is nice to come to relax for awhile, but not to live here permanently. And the winters would probably absolutely kill me!”

Julie had a twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Small towns have a lot to offer. You just have to be willing to look around.”

For some reason, Julie’s argument almost seemed appealing to Carolyn.

 

 

After an enjoyable luncheon with Julie, Carolyn had biked toward the other end of the island from the Bateman home. When she’d been over this way with Jared when they’d visited Roiter, she’d spied tantalizing glimpses of beaches. Now she’d intended to do further exploring. 

The bicycle whizzed along and Carolyn enjoyed the feel of the refreshing sea air around her face. Ah! she thought as she breathed deeply. A million dollars couldn’t buy it, and it was hers for free! She closed her eyes to enjoy the air more intimately. Nothing could mar her afternoon now.

“Hey!”

She opened her eyes in time to see that she was headed straight for the back of a stopped jeep. A large man jumped out of the way as she applied the brakes, but she still knew she was going to hit the back of the jeep very solidly.

Carolyn’s bicycle and the jeep collided with a metallic thump, and Carolyn heard the tinkle of glass breaking over the taillight. She threw her feet on the ground so she wouldn’t fall and saved herself. But the man was suddenly there, grabbing the handlebars of the bicycle and insuring that Carolyn wouldn’t take a tumble.

“Are you alright, Miss?” he asked with alarm. Then he recognized her. “You!”

Yep. Captain Roiter!

“Good afternoon, Captain,” she greeted tentatively.

“Do you realize what you just did?!”

“Did you? Why were you parked on the road?”

“I had slowed to turn into my driveway! Didn’t you see my signal?!”

“Uh. The sun got in my eye?” she said lamely.

He pointed into the sky behind her. “The sun is over there!”

“My, my, so it is. However did it get over there, do you suppose?” Then, to distract him, she said, “Oh, dear. I broke your taillight. I’ll replace it, of course.”

“Never mind. Just so you didn’t hurt yourself,” he grumbled.

“Why, thank you, Captain!” she said brightly. “See? Everything’s okay!”

“No, it isn’t. You bent the front wheel of your bicycle. You won’t be riding it anywhere until it gets straightened.”

She chewed her lip. “Oh, dear, and it’s miles to the Bateman’s. Well, I might as well get started walking,” she said like a martyr as she started pushing the unwieldy, wobbling bicycle. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Captain Roiter.”

“Wait! You can’t walk that far.”

“I assure you, I can!” she said hotly.

“I assure you, you won’t!” he said just as stubbornly. He grabbed the bicycle and shoved it in the back of his jeep. “Climb in! Or I’ll throw you in there!”

Just to humor him, she complied. Besides, she hadn’t really been looking forward to pushing that wobbly bicycle that distance.

He drove in silence, then, “Were you shaken?”

“No,” she said sharper than she’d intended. “Why do you ask?”

He nodded down. “Your hands are trembling.” He frowned. “Will you be okay?”

She clinched her hands together. “Yes,” she said with determination.

“I’ll stop in town and get you a cold soda. That will help settle you down.”

“I do not require anything, thank you,” she said primly.

“Well, I do! And you’re joining me!” he declared hotly.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” she muttered.

He flashed her a look.

“Now I’m wrong because I’m agreeing with you?!”

“It’s the way you were agreeing with me.”

“Oh, you’re impossible!”

“My thoughts exactly, except about you.” He stopped in front of the small grocery store in Sandy Harbor. "Sit here quietly and try not to hurt yourself while I'm gone. I'll only be a moment, but I realize that would give you lots of time to and charged inside.

As she waited for him, she watched Julie Hargrove close the library for the day and head for her car. When Julie looked up, Carolyn waved at her.

“What are you doing in Captain Roiter’s jeep?” Julie demanded.

“We tangled again, and my bicycle lost. He’s taking me home.”

At that moment, Roiter appeared and handed a cold soda to Carolyn. He nodded at Julie. “Afternoon, Mrs. Hargrove,” he said solemnly.

“Captain Roiter,” she returned primly. Then, when he turned to enter the other side of the car, Julie mouthed, Have fun.

Carolyn mouthed back, With him?

Julie laughed, then waved as Roiter’s jeep started down the street.

Carolyn decided she‘d better act a little grateful. “This soda was a good idea. Thank you. I guess I’m more tired and thirsty than I’d realized. It will put some needed sugar into my system.”

Roiter visibly relaxed and softened. “You’re welcomed. It’s a good treatment for mild shock.”

“Thank you for taking care of me, Captain.”

He relaxed further. “You‘re welcomed.” He nodded at the books she held in her other hand. “Were your library books damaged?”

“They just rattled around some. They didn’t take the tumble yours did earlier.”

“They’ll survive. I notice you got the plays of Aristophanes. Not exactly light reading while on vacation.”

“They’re comedies.”

“They’re ancient Greek. Not exactly what I figured you‘d be reading.”

She eyed him narrowly. “And what did you figure I’d be reading on vacation?”

He even managed a grin. “The latest Jacqueline Susann. Maybe a Taylor Caldwell.”

“Hmm. I see. And what did you check out? Moby Dick? Perhaps a Horatio Hornblower sea epic? That guy did like to blow his own horn, didn’t he?”

Roiter slid his eyes toward her. She wondered, too, why she was being so catty. And to someone who was beginning to make a career out of rescuing her. Perhaps that was what wrangled her.

“Aristophanes, eh? Read the plays to get pointers, do you?”

Ouch! “The Lysistrata is a lovely work on anti-war.”

“’Lovely work on anti-war?!’” he declared as he jerked the wheel. 

“Captain,” she said calmly. “Your driving.”

He straightened the jeep from its headlong careen toward the opposite ditch. “It’s a stinging farce on marriage! The women withheld their favors from their husbands!”

“I know what they did. I’ve read it.”

“The women don’t play fair. They make the men look ridiculous.“ 

“And yet the men keep coming back,” she mocked. “They have for thousands of years.” She gave him a knowing look. “I wonder why?”

He shot her an appreciative look. “Touche. Well, here we are. The Bateman’s, And high time!” He parked and started to get out. “I’ll get your bike.”

“Oh, by the way, Jared extends his best.”

“Hmm?” Roiter asked as he fought the awkward bicycle.

The front door flew open before Carolyn reached it, and Jared gave her a stunned look. “Caro?! What happened?! Did you have a bike accident?!”

“The bike is the only casualty. I’m fine.“

Jared stared beyond her. “Captain Roiter?!” Jared asked, still stunned.

She shrugged. “I extended your best, Jared,” she said. 

“One injured bicycle,” Roiter said as he handed the bike to Jared. “A twisted front wheel. You should be able to fix it yourself.”

Jared grunted a confirmation as he looked the bicycle over. “You’re right. It doesn’t look too damaged.”

Roiter glared at Carolyn, his ill humor returned. “It got off lucky, I think.”

“What?” Jared asked, looking from one to the other.

“Please ask your house-guest to inform me of her whereabouts for the remainder of her visit with you, Bateman. I believe that will be the safest course of action for me. I will plan to be as far away as possible, off island, if need be.” He nodded stiffly in Carolyn’s direction. “Madame. Good day.”

They watched him climb into his jeep and tear down the driveway.

“Does he know he’s got a taillight out?”

Carolyn fought back her grin. “He knows.”

Jared looked at her in puzzlement. “You have some explaining to do, young lady.”

“Wait until we get inside! Mary’s never going to believe the day I’ve had, and neither will you!”

“What did you and Roiter talk about?” Jared said as he leaned the bicycle beside the front door.

“Aristophanes.”

“Aristophanes?!” Jared asked as he held the door open for Carolyn.

“And the meaning of Lysistrata,” Carolyn answered as he entered the house. “You discussed Ancient Greek literature with him?!”

“Yep.”

Jared looked aghast. “And I’m lucky if I can get a comment about the weather out of him.”

“Was that Captain Roiter I just saw out the window?” Mary asked.

“That’s right,” Jared answered, still somewhat stunned. “He was bringing Caro home.”

“Again?! He’s making a habit out of this, isn’t he, Kitten?”

Carolyn shrugged in answer.

“What is this?” Mary asked with further interest. “You left this morning on a bicycle and returned in Captain Roiter’s jeep. Yesterday, it was our sailboat and his fishing boat. What is this? Some sort of new hobby with you? If it is, it’s certainly creative.”

“Fate is busy pulling tricks on me, that’s all I know. Anywhere I go, Captain Roiter is suddenly there. I don’t plan it. I’ve never needed this much saving before. Well, I’m going to look at these new books from the library. I’ll be in my room. Captain Roiter will be safe from me if I’m there. Surely.”

Jared was still looking perplexed. “I don’t get it! They were discussing Aristophanes, Mary. Aristophanes! How does she do it?”

She glanced at the dark fringe of hair circling the top of his head. “Maybe she’s got more hair.”

He grimaced.

She placed a gentling hand on his arm. “And maybe her hair is curly and sassy and frames her face just so. And maybe Captain Roiter doesn’t know if she’s going to blind him with a smile. Or maybe she might say something stupid or something insightful that he’s never considered before. Or maybe he’s going to have to rescue her again. Can you do all that, Jared? Can you keep your Captain Roiter off balance like that?”

“You mean--”

“I mean that she’s probably in her room right now reading to see if Aristophanes got it right!”


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Carolyn donned her hiking boots, khaki pants, and safari jacket. She and the Batemans were planning an all-day romp in the surrounding hills. If the weather held, they would camp out that night so each packed some food in a knapsack, a slicker in case of rain, and a sleeping bag.

As Carolyn left the house, she noted that the barometer had fallen a degree since dawn. That meant a low-pressure system was approaching and a storm would follow. Carolyn glanced up. There wasn’t a cloud in the balmy blue sky.

About ten miles west of town, they parked the Mustang at the end of a gravel road. From here, the trail would be by foot. They hiked about two miles further and crossed a rickety bridge over a silver mountain stream that merrily bounced over rounded boulders scattered randomly in its riverbed.

“How picturesque!” Carolyn exclaimed.

“It’s the main draining stream for those mountains,” Mary said as she pointed to the northwest. “And its banks are steep ravines for miles.”

“Yes,” Jared agreed. “If the bridge were out, you’d have to walk eight to ten miles around it. You could even be trapped in the wilderness for days.”

They hiked another mile further inland and ate lunch on the banks of a crystal blue lake.

“Look,” Carolyn said. “There’s somebody camped across the lake. Can you tell who it is?”

Jared studied the tent that stood about a half a mile away. “It’s too far to tell from here. Must be some other nature buff.”

“Well, I’m more interested in what’s going on in the mountains,” Mary said, pointing in the distance.

They followed her finger and saw the heavy squall of rain that was pouring down on the mountains. The dense black cloud must have nearly split open because the rain looked like it was pouring out of a faucet turned on full-blast.

“I don’t know about you people, but I don’t care to get caught in that.” Mary started gathering up their picnic things.

“I doubt if we can make it back to the car before it hits,” Jared commented.

“We can always put on our slickers,” Mary suggested. “I don’t mind camping out, but not in the rain. It wouldn’t do my sinuses any good.”

They traveled as fast as they could, but had only gone half a mile when the rain caught up with them and they had to put on their slickers.

“Maybe we could hole-up until the worst of it passes,” Carolyn shouted.

“I’m not stopping until I cross that bridge,” Mary replied. “Then I’ll take plenty of time to rest.”

Carolyn had forgotten about the bridge, the rickety structure that was their only means to civilization. Before long, she became aware of a distant roaring that grew louder as they ran along. And then she knew what it was. The downpour in the mountains was crowding its way to the ocean along the steep ravines of the stream they’d crossed earlier.

They passed the last tree and suddenly there they were at the bridge. The stream was swollen, its angry waters tearing at the bridge’s planks. Tree branches and other debris swirled and bobbed in the boiling waters. Carolyn thought she saw the rickety bridge sway as a passing tree branch struck it with a resounding thump.

“Come on! Let’s hurry and get across before that bridge goes!” Jared ordered as he grabbed Mary’s arm and started running.

At that moment Carolyn realized she had lost her cap. She saw it lying a few feet away in the forest and ran to retrieve it. When she returned to the bridge, the Batemans were on the other side, waving at her to come on.

“Hurry, Caro!” Jared called.

Just as Carolyn stepped onto the bridge, she heard a grinding, splintering noise and the bridge gave a lurch. Carolyn lost her footing and a scream froze in her throat as she realized she was headed for the murderous waters below.

Carolyn was wrenched violently backwards by two strong arms. Thrown off-balance, her rescuer slipped in the mud, and they both crashed heavily to the ground. The next instant, her unknown savior fell heavily on top of her. Brutal elbows pinned her arms to the ground and a bushy face smelling of pipe tobacco hovered over hers. She was about to protest when she heard the bridge disintegrate with the sound of exploding dynamite, and she knew the man had cushioned her in a cocoon of safety with his own body. She heard the man say “Umph!” and his dead weight relaxed on top of her. For a moment they lay that way with the man crushing the breath out of her, and then he pushed a plank aside and rolled away.

“Kitten! Are you alright?”

Carolyn struggled to her feet. “Yes, Mary!” She turned to her rescuer and saw a hatless man with bowed head sitting on the ground, one knee bent as if trying to rise. With a grunt, he pulled himself to his feet, stumbled, and took a step toward Carolyn.

“Captain Roiter?” Carolyn asked incredulously.

Rain water streamed down the captain’s face. He looked angry and noncommittal, and Carolyn thought she saw pain in his eyes.

“Who’s that with you?!” Jared called.

Carolyn cupped her hands. “Captain Roiter!” she yelled above the roar of the water.

The Batemans bent their heads together and had a quick conference.

“Caro!” Jared yelled. “I’m sorry, sweetheart! There’s nothing we can do to help you!”

Carolyn stared at Roiter. She was trapped, and with him!

Roiter saw the utter helplessness on her bewildered face and turned to yell at Jared. “Bateman! Don’t worry! She’ll be okay! I give my word!”

The two men studied each other over the raging water.

Jared nodded. “Alright, Roiter! I trust you!”

Without a further word, Roiter started through the woods. Carolyn looked from him to the Batemans.

“Go with him, Caro!” Jared hollered. “You’ll be alright!”

Afraid she’d lose track of Roiter in the dense rain, she scurried after him and had to run to keep up with his headlong plunging forward through the trees. Apparently, he knew where he was headed, but she had no idea of their destination. At least, the rain had slackened, although it still drove down in cold, chilling sheets.

“Where are we going?!” she asked breathlessly as they plowed past wet pines.

At first she thought he wouldn’t answer. Without slackening his pace, he glanced at her contemptuously and answered gruffly. “I’m camped on the lake.”

So it was his tent they’d seen.

“Captain, what about….”

“Save your breath,” he chided. “You’re going to need it.”

And he was right. Before they reached his campsite, Carolyn was hot, panting, and exhausted.

He held the flap of the canvas tent open, and she ducked inside and collapsed into the semidarkness. It wasn’t very warm, but at least it was dry.

The Captain lit a lantern and gave her rumpled appearance a look of disapproval and annoyance.

“I suppose you’re one of those city weaklings that catches the flu any time a fresh breeze strikes you.”

Carolyn did catch cold easily, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him.

Captain Roiter gathered some twigs that he’d previously put in the tent to keep dry in case of rain. “I’m going to build a fire. It might be a little smoky in here, but I don’t want you to take pneumonia and die on me.”

Soon the fire was crackling and spreading its warmth into the tent. Roiter opened the tent flap so some of the smoke could escape. 

“You better get out of those wet clothes now.”

She stared at him in shock.

“What’s wrong? I suppose you forgot to bring along any other clothes.”

“That’s not it! I’m not changing my clothes while you’re in here!”

“If you think I’m going out into that storm just so your modesty won’t be offended, you are mistaken. Listen, whatever-your-name-is, you couldn’t be safer than if you were at the Batemans. All I want is to be left alone.”

“I’m Carolyn Mains, and I most certainly expect you to leave.”

“May I remind you that it’s my tent?”

Carolyn started to rise. “Alright, then! I’LL leave!”

He held up his hand. “You’re going nowhere. But you have to change those clothes….” He glanced outside. “The rain’s letting up again. I’ll go out.” He gathered up his pack, and then looked back at her. “If you get scared, just holler,” he said sarcastically. “It‘s probably a little dark in here for you. A mouse or a spider may startle you. Please refrain from screaming, if you can avoid it at all.“

Carolyn felt her eyes go into little slits of meanness. She disliked putting herself down to his level. “I don’t scare that easily, Captain.”

He smirked with a cruel grin and threw himself out of the tent. When he returned fifteen minutes later, both had donned fresh clothes. He threw his wet clothes in the corner, and Carolyn thought she saw a glimpse of blood on his discarded black sweater.

But she didn’t have time to think about blood or anything else as the Captain was firing machine gun questions at her.

“What do you have in your knapsack? Is it anything worthwhile?”

“It’s none of your business!”

“I assure you, Miss Mains, that whatever girlish gimcracks you must have with you interest me not in the least. I was referring to what food you brought.”

“Oh.” Caroline dug around in her gear and finally displayed her booty to the Captain: a half-sack of fig bars and a couple of apples.

He looked stunned. “And this is what you planned to eat while camping?”

“Mary always carries the food.”

“Well, don’t worry about it. I’ve got plenty of bacon and beans and Johnny cake.”

“What’s Johnny cake?”

“Corn bread. I thought a smart girl like you would know that.”

“Just because I’m in college doesn’t mean I know everything.”

“You said it. I didn’t.”

Carolyn felt the anger rising in her, but she fought it back.

“Just what do you aim to do with this education you’re getting, anyway?”

“Teach.” And just by saying it to him made her determined that Ted should let her at least try teaching.

“I thought maybe you’d just get married,” he said as he pointed at the ring on her finger, “and retire.”

“For your information, Captain Roiter, being a housewife and a mother is a full-time occupation. But I suppose you wouldn’t know about that. You’ve apparently never been around women.”

“I was once, before my mother died.”

The tent fell into silence and Carolyn wished she hadn’t reminded him of an obvious sorrow.

“You’re apparently a marvelous cook,” she said at last. 

He looked up, almost stunned, and actually blinked. So, he could be reached. Someone could stir his curiosity. “Why should you say something like that?”

She’d wondered that herself. She was supposed to be educated with the abilities for systematic thinking and concisely expressing her opinions. Why should this gruff, antisocial person make her feel as if she would lose a debate to someone in kindergarten?

She shrugged. “It‘s obvious. You don‘t look like you‘re starving.”

“Are you saying that I‘m overweight?”

“No!” What was wrong with her?! She’d been on the debate team in high school and had even lettered. She’d once considered a law career and was told that she had the aptitude for it. Why couldn’t she express herself well now?!

“I’m just saying, you appeared to live alone and you aren’t underfed. In fact, you have a nicely portioned body, for a big boned man. You have a very nice physique.”

He frowned. “I do?”

Oh, heavens! Now it sounded as if she must’ve been checking him out!

“I just mean,” she rambled, trying to hide her embarrassment, “I realize how difficult it must be to live by yourself.” There! That was better! More impersonal, at least. He’d been talking about his mother before she had so agilely stuck her foot in her mouth. Explore that path. Perhaps it will be safer. “Who taught you to cook so well? Your mother?”

“Cook?” The captain stirred out of his reverie. “My mother? No, my father did. He’d done the cooking for years anyway. My mother was an invalid and couldn’t do her own housework. Father said that Mother was always running and laughing before the accident that crippled her. She wanted to do her own work afterwards and felt frustrated when she couldn’t. I think cobwebs bothered her the most. She was always having me climb up and sweep them off the ceiling. That’s why I keep the house so clean now. She’d want it that way.”

Carolyn remembered the bare, neat living room and felt sympathy for the son that had made it into a shrine for his mother.

“Your father must have been a very patient man.”

“He never had any schooling except to learn to read and write. But, oh, did he know about the world! Not the world of people, but the world that counts, the world of nature. He taught me to listen to the song of the wind and to be friends with the sea. All animals are my brothers and all things mine. Mother read to me from the Bible and recited the words of the other ancients, but Father taught me to live.”

Once again the tent slid into silence, and Carolyn thought of how Jared would have liked this opportunity to talk to Roiter.

“Whatever happened to your father?”

A small tension line bored between the captain’s massive eyebrows. “Oh, he was lost at sea five years ago.”

“And then you found Wimpy?” she asked gently to get his mind off the tragedy of his father’s death.

The Captain smiled crookedly and it was not really a smile at all. “Wimpy found me. I was half-drowned in the surf, pieces of our boat around me and my father’s hat in my hand. That’s all I’d been able to grab when he went overboard. Wimpy pumped the sea out of my lungs and forced me to live. He just kept standing there with that idiotic grin on his face and shoving that awful soup into me. I got mad at him and that gave me the determination to get well. He’s worked for me ever since.”

“Where does he live?’

“In some cheap hotel room on the waterfront.”

“Why doesn’t he live with you? You’re both alone.”

“People are sometimes better off by themselves.”

“But, if you’re both lonely….”

“Alone is not the same as being lonely.”

“You haven’t found the right person to be with. Nobody really wants to be a hermit. Man is a social animal.”

“Well, maybe that’s the way we want to stay, Miss Mains, alone. You will allow us to do that if we wish. Won’t you?”

Carolyn had her mouth open to answer, but she heard the sarcasm in his voice. What he did with his life really was his own business. How could she criticize this man who was nearly a stranger? She’d never been so forward to anyone before.

But she also was not going to apologize, although she should. She hated to admit that this smug man was right about something. Why did he wrangle her so much?

“Whatever you say, Captain.”

The captain stirred the fire in the quietness. Carolyn looked out the tent flap. The rain had stopped and the sun was trying to peak around the clouds in the western sky.

“I hate to mention this, Captain, and I don’t want to sound crude, but is there a flush toilet around here, by chance?”

“The facilities are out in back,” he said as he jerked a thumb toward the forest, “behind any tree. And I don't want to sound crude, but if you do something serious, be sure to bury it."

"Alright."

"Go that direction, though.” He indicated over his left shoulder. “I’ve been headed out the other way. Oh, and take your rain slicker. The trees will be dripping water. Are you sure you wouldn‘t rather wait until it‘s dryer?”

“It’s all those dripping trees that inspired me! I’ve been around running water ever since that bridge collapsed, and now it’s finally registered.”

She thought she saw the shadow of a grin on his rugged face. “Go on. We’ll have to be thinking of supper soon.”

Speaking of supper made her remember that she was going to have to spend the night alone with this half-wild man on the side of an isolated mountain.


	5. Chapter 5

When she returned to the tent he glanced up. “Did you get wet?”

She shed her rain gear. “Thankfully, just my feet. I never brought galoshes. I wouldn’t associate them with mountain climbing, though.”

“No one would. Here. Hang that wet gear on the line over there in the corner so it doesn’t drip on us. I almost wish I’d brought my foul weather gear from the boat.”

The incredulity of a sea captain in a mountain tent suddenly struck Carolyn. He seemed out of place.

“Why are you camping in the mountains, anyway? This seems like an odd place for you to spend time. I thought you were a man of the sea.”

“Contrary to what you might think, I do have legs and I use them. I go hiking frequently. Besides, we’re having squally weather. No need to be on the ocean in a storm if you don’t have to be.”

“How am I going to get back to the Batemans?”

The captain looked aggravated. “I’ll have to walk you out.”

“All the way to the coast?”

“That’s the only way, unless you’d care to swim that stream.”

Carolyn shuddered and remembered how murderous the stream had looked when she had almost fallen into it. Then another thought occurred to her. “This is going to be quite an inconvenience to you, isn’t it, Captain?”

“I’ll just have to miss most of my fishing time tomorrow, that’s all.”

“Oh, dear. How long were you planning to stay here?”

“Saturday noon.”

She’d spoil his holiday completely.

“Listen, just show me the direction and I’ll go by myself.”

“I’d be insane to turn you loose in the woods by yourself. They’d never find you back,” he said with contempt in his voice.

Carolyn blushed angrily. “I can take better care of myself than that!”

“I saw a good example of how you can take care of yourself yesterday. Standing up in a boat! Ha!”

“I don’t have to listen to this!” She jumped to her feet.

“Sit down! Don’t cause me anymore trouble!”

“Well, I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much inconvenience, Captain! But I’m only human, and human beings make mistakes! But you wouldn’t know about that, would you, Captain, because you’re not human!”

“Sit down, woman! Your mouth is making a draft.”

Red anger flashed across her eyes. “Oh! You’re horrible!”

She ran for the tent flap, but his strong hands grabbed her.

“Come back here!”

Her anger gave her strength, and she hit out at him. To her surprise, he let go and fell back with a groan.

Outside, she plunged into the forest. Carolyn crashed through the wooded undergrowth, feeling the stings and lashes of passing branches against her tender cheeks. She was weeping and the shadows of night were steadily marching from tree to tree, but nothing would stop her headlong flight. She had to escape that sarcastic, belligerent excuse for a man.

“Don’t be foolish!“ Roiter called, causing her to hurry more. “Come back! You’ll get lost!”

She’d show him she could take care of herself. She’d—

Her foot slipped and twisted on a slippery rock hidden beneath decaying leaves, and Carolyn sprawled to the ground. Pain shot through her left ankle. She lay there for a moment, fighting for breath and listening to the captain fast approaching her.

Carolyn pulled herself to her feet, took a step, and fell against a boulder. Her ankle had been painfully wrenched in her fall. There would be no more running for her. She glanced quickly about. She seemed to be in some sort of hidden nook between two large pines and her boulder. Maybe, if she kept very quiet, the captain wouldn’t find her.

“Miss Mains! Where are you?!”

His voice was close, just on the other side of the two pines. Carolyn held her breath and waited.

“Blast it, girl! Don’t play the part of a fool!”

Carolyn might have made it if she hadn’t looked up. There, from the limb of one of the pines, two widely spaced eyes stared down at her. She crammed her arm into her mouth, but a cry must have escaped. In the next moment, Captain Roiter crashed into her sanctuary. High in the branches of the pine came a scurrying and fluttering as the owl that Carolyn had startled flew away.

But Carolyn had no time to think of owls. The captain shook her shoulders until her neck snapped. His blue eyes burned with fury. “You stupid little idiot! Don’t you know you could get hurt running around in these woods!” He shoved her roughly forward. “Now, get back to camp!”

Carolyn stumbled, caught a pine branch, and gasped at the pain that seared through her ankle. Determinedly, she put her injured foot gingerly forward and limped another step.

“You’ve been hurt,” his voice said with solicitude very close to her ear. “Let me help you.”

She shook off his hand. “Leave me alone. I can make it. I don’t want anything from you.”

But, as she took another step, she started to fall and was powerless to stop him from sweeping her into his mighty arms. She tried to struggle, then fell, limp and exhausted, against his shoulder. How small and helpless she felt in that encircling refuge of his steel arms and armored chest.

Inside the tent the captain carefully deposited Carolyn on her sleeping bag, removed her boots, and did his best to help her poor swelling ankle. He placed towels wet with cold lake water directly onto her flesh, and she sucked her breath in sharply at the pain that shot through her leg. Then she felt better as the cold slowly paralyzed the hurt. She was miserable, thoroughly miserable, and she wanted only to be left alone. But he took a cloth and sponged her feverish face and the bleeding scratches on her cheeks. Her hair was mussed, her eyes glazed, and her body exhausted. She knew she must look a sight. And it disgusted her that he, or any man, should see her in this state. But, by then, she was so drowsy and bone tired that she didn’t care.

“You rest,” he said gently and she was amazed that his cold voice could sound so kindly. “I’ll bring you some supper later.”

Carolyn had a glimpse of the setting sun shimmering across the lake toward the tent. “Make it breakfast,” she murmured and went to sleep with her cheek cradled against his calloused hand.

 

She awoke deep in the hush of night. The embers from the fire glowed faintly, and she could see Captain Roiter dozing in his sleeping bag beside hers. Carolyn felt numb and exhausted, but her ankle ached with a slow and steady throb. And moving it didn’t seem to help, either. In fact, she gasped from the sudden pain.

Roiter’s eyes flickered open, and Roiter turned to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I tried to move my ankle. It hurts.”

He fumbled around in his knapsack and shoved two pills into her hand. “Take these,” he said and handed her the canteen. “I fixed some soup for you. It’s only from a powdered mix, but it’s very nourishing and satisfying.”

“I’m sorry, Captain. I’m nothing but trouble for you.”

“Hush. Think nothing more of it. You must try to eat now.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need the strength. Come, I will help you.” He pulled her into a sitting position and grunted slightly.

“Is there anything wrong, Captain?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“That took quite a bit of effort for you to lift me.”

“You aren’t exactly a feather, you know.” Then he added quickly before she could protest: “My bones are getting old and it takes all my strength to move them.”

She felt a chuckle in her throat. “Tell me more, Methuselah.”

“Alright now. Drink your soup.” He held the bowl to her lips and she drank deeply of the rich broth. “Alright, back to sleep with you.”

She settled drowsily back into her sleeping bag, snuggled into the fleecy warmth of a flannel shirt, and wondered sleepily how she came to be wearing it.

 

The next morning she limped out of the tent and found the captain frying bacon over a campfire.

As she walked toward the woods to take care of morning business, she saw a line of clothes strung over the pine branches. Among them were the two shirts she’d worn yesterday. The one she’d been wearing when she sprained her ankle was torn and muddy. That explained why she was wearing this green-plaid lumberjack shirt that seemed ten sizes too big for her. She blushed when she imagined the captain putting it on her. Absently, she noted that his black sweater was missing.

Back in the tent she combed her hair and checked her mirror. Her face looked terrible, all puffy and scratched. And her ankle hurt.

“Breakfast!” he called.

As she started from the tent, Carolyn saw a corner of the black sweater peaking from under Roiter’s sleeping bag and pulled it out. Carolyn hadn’t been mistaken. There was blood on it. Perhaps Roiter had just skinned his hand, but then she saw the jagged hole in the back of the sweater. She found his slicker and saw the large rent in it, too, just below the right shoulder blade.

Roiter was seated on a rock near the fire. Carolyn hobbled to the campstool that he had set up for her. She picked up her plate and started to eat.

“How’s the ankle?” he inquired. 

“It hurts quite a bit, but I can get around better than I thought I could.”

“Well, you’ll have to stay off it as much as possible. I guess you know this stops our hiking into town today.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Well, at least you can get your fishing done.” She brought herself out of her reverie. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that. I….”

“No, I deserved it. I should’ve been more civil yesterday. It wasn’t your fault you got trapped on this side of the bridge. I shouldn’t have acted like you were in the road. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gone running out and hurt yourself.”

“Oh, Captain, you mustn’t blame yourself for my ankle. It was an accident. It couldn’t be helped.”

“And to err is human?” the captain asked wryly.

“And to forgive divine,” she finished gently.

“I shouldn’t have carried on so about going into town today. There was something I had to see about, anyway.”

“Like seeing a doctor?”

His face shot up, alarmed. “How….”

“Don’t carry on so, Captain. I saw the bloody sweater and the torn slicker. How did you hurt your shoulder?”

The captain looked resigned. “A plank from the bridge hit me in the back. A piece of the wood lodged itself just below my shoulder blade. I tried to get it out, but it broke off and I can’t reach the rest of it.”

Carolyn rose from her stool. “Show me.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Come on!”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“Maybe I can get it out.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I can try! I can reach it and, besides, I’m the only person you’re going to see for a few days. That arm’s going to be awfully sore by then, if you don‘t have something done to it as soon as possible.”

“Oh, alright.” He pulled up the shirt as she hobbled over.

The wound was swollen and angry-looking. In the center of it, she could see the tip of the splinter protruding outward. She touched it and Roiter winced, but the splinter was firmly embedded.

“Just a minute. I have something in the tent that might help.” A moment later she returned with a tweezers and held it up for him to see. “One of those gimcracks from my knapsack.”

He handed her a piece of cotton soaked in some foul-smelling liquid. “Put this on the wound when you get the splinter out. It will disinfect the wound.”

Gently, Carolyn pulled the flesh away from the splinter with her left hand and clamped onto the wood with the tweezers in her right hand. She tugged gently and the splinter would not budge. She felt a little sick to her stomach when she realized it was the tension of the skin itself that was resisting her. It felt like the splinter was anchored to bone when it actually was the outer skin layer that fought her.

“Brace yourself,” she ordered.

Carolyn took a firmer hold on the tweezers, pushed hard against the wound, and gave a tremendous yank. The splinter loosened and came out part way.

“It’s nearly out. Hang on.”

She gave a determined pull and the bloody splinter in the jaws of the tweezers shot over her head. As the splinter left, it tore flesh and hide, and a stream of blood spewed over Roiter’s rib-cage.

The captain gasped and slumped forward. Carolyn’s right hand shot in front of his face and grabbed his left shoulder.

“The antiseptic,” he gasped.

She pushed the dripping cotton firmly against the wound. Roiter shuddered and his left hand grabbed the arm that held him upright. Sympathy for his pain and the fact that she was causing some of it drew her to him. She pressed her cheek against his coal-black hair and tried to shelter him with her body as he had done for her yesterday.

At last he lifted his head. “Alright. It is better.”

She bandaged the gaping wound and helped him with his shirt.

“Thanks,” he said. “That took a lot of nerve. Most women couldn’t have done what you did.”

“You seem surprised.”

“I am. You have grit.”

She glowed in the light of his compliment. 

He started to clean up the breakfast remains, and she hobbled around trying to help him.

“You better sit down before you hurt your ankle.”

“No, I’m alright. Besides, you’re hurt now, too.”

“You might fall.”

“I want to help.”

They looked at each other. He might accuse her of being stubborn, and she was prepared to defend herself if he was angry with her. But all she saw was concern for her in his eyes.

“I don’t want to see any more bruises on you,” he said softly. “You’re wearing enough of those already that I’ve caused.”

Carolyn had rolled up the sleeves of the plaid shirt to nearly her armpits. On the whiteness of her slim, bare arms were the angry purple marks left by the captain: When he had hauled her off the sailboat, when he caught her as they collided in the doorway of the library, when he saved her from a tumble off her bicycle, when he had grabbed her off the collapsing bridge, and when he had shook her so hard last night. Five times he’d put hands on her, and she had the bruises to prove it.

“Daddy always said I bruised easily,” she said as she pulled the sleeves down. “He spanked me only once because the marks showed for a week. Actually, the bruises don’t hurt at all.”

She was telling the truth, but she could tell the captain didn’t believe her. And she knew he felt bad because he’d been so rough with her.

“I didn’t know that anybody was actually that soft….” His voice had a sound of distance to it, and Carolyn felt her first tiny fear of being alone with him. He was, after all, a man. But overriding that fear was sympathy that he had never known softness or tenderness in his life.

“It comes from many years of soaking in cold cream,” she said lightly. “I think I’ll lie down awhile and give my ankle a rest. It’s just a little past sunrise so the fish should be biting. You’ll have the water to yourself.”

“Listen,” he said and his earnest face stopped her. “Why don’t you come down by the bank where I’ll be fishing? That way the sun will keep you warm.”

She could tell he was sorry for the way he had treated her and was trying to make it up to her. 

“Alright,” she agreed with a companionable smile. “I think I might like that.”

He settled her in a warm nook out of the wind and then sat beside her. They leaned comfortably against a boulder. The rock was away from debris and the trees, so nothing interfered with the captain’s casting.

Carolyn basked in the feeble warmth of the April sun and breathed deeply of the captain’s rich tobacco smoke. She could have sat that way without speaking for hours.


	6. Chapter 6

“This Bateman….“ he said at last.

She stirred herself. She‘d almost drifted asleep and fought to collect her thoughts again. “Jared?“

“Yes. What does he want from me?” Roiter asked.

Carolyn blinked. She was about to say that Jared wanted a series of articles, but she knew that Jared wanted more than that.

“Jared wants to talk with you.”

Roiter looked at her levelly. “What could he possibly want to talk to me about? He’s a well-known man in his field. Very respected.”

She smiled at him. “You‘ve heard of him?”

“I do more than fish and hike. My library card is well used at the local library, as you probably know by now. I like Mrs. Hargrove, but she can be a little gossipy.”

Carolyn smiled. “Julie means well. She likes people, just as Jared Bateman does.” She settled back comfortably against the boulder. “He wants to exchange ideas with you. He thinks that you are a wise and profound person and a great thinker.” She glanced at Roiter. “When I see him again, I’m going to tell him that he was right.”

Roiter yanked at the fishing line, and even Carolyn knew he had moved too roughly.

“You’re talking rubbish,” he said. “Nobody has ever wanted to do anything more than ridicule me because I am different.”

“It’s because you’re different that Jared wants to talk to you. People have forgotten how to think for themselves. They try to fit into the mold that society has forged for them. But you’re an individual, and you’re not afraid of being yourself. That takes a lot of bravery.”

“Don’t be so sure of what you call bravery. Individuality can be shoved on a person as forcibly as that social mold you‘ve described. What do you think I would have been like if I had grown up with children my own age or had known laughter in my house? What would I be like now if I had not always have been so alone in my youth?”

She looked straight at him and studied the face intently watching the bobbing cork. “You have been forged of steel, and the fire of loneliness and hurt have only made you stronger.”

He glared at her. ‘Are you mocking me with some sort of poetic double-talk?”

“I didn’t intend to. I was just saying the truth as I saw it.”

“I’m not a philosophical man!”

“That is untrue! You told me that your mother read the great teachings to you and that your father taught you about life. You would be very well equipped to talk to Jared. And he would be pleasantly surprised. He has no idea how first home-taught and now how self-taught you are.”

He stared at her with burning eyes. “And I’m to walk right up to him and start talking? I’m to display my thoughts for some stranger to pick over? How do I know he won’t make a mockery of my ideas? How am I to trust him?”

“Obviously, you respect him,” Carolyn said and remembered two days before when she thought Roiter honored nobody who didn’t work with his hands. “Just try trusting him. He trusts you,” she said gently. “That’s a good beginning.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Would you try? Please? Hmm?” She squinted against the glare of sunlight as she looked up and gave him a cajoling look.

 

“Oh, all right,” the Captain said with annoyance as he flicked the line back into the water. “If it will stop your blathering so the fishes don’t get scared away. I’ll talk to Bateman, if that will please you.”

“Thank you. It will. And you’ll be pleased yourself. Just wait.”

He gave a non-committal grumble, but gave no further arguments. “I feel like I’ve been outsmarted by some big city lawyer.”

“Why, how did you know I considered a law career?” she asked with surprise.

“I didn’t,” he grumbled. “It just figures, that’s all. No wonder I didn’t stand a chance in that debate.”

Carolyn settled back with a satisfied smile. She knew he wasn’t as annoyed as he acted. His gruffness was part of his protective shield he thought he had to display. Yes, Carolyn was starting to understand him very well. He wasn’t half bad, as people went.

Roiter glanced at her with annoyance around his lips. “You needn’t feel so smug with yourself.”

“I think you finally have a nibble, Captain.”

He looked at her with a question in his eyes.

She nodded her head back to the lake. “Your fishing. Remember?”

He turned his attention back to his fishing.

It pleased her that her presence had unbalanced him.

But then, as she watched him fish, she started to feel not quite so smug with herself when she realized the captain had allowed himself to be persuaded by her to see Jared. The captain wanted to communicate with people, but was uncertain of how to go about it. Unconsciously, he must have realized that Carolyn could help. But being a go-between didn’t seem very glamorous to her, although it was a way she could pay back the two men she had plagued so much during the past week.

She sighed as she made peace with her unique situation. A go-between was at least something positive.

“How often do you come up here, Captain?”

“Every chance I can get.”

“It’s kind of a bus-man’s holiday then.”

“Hmm?”

“You know. On his day off, a bus driver drives somewhere. On your day off the fishing boat, you come up in the mountains and fish. That’s not much of a vacation.”

“The fish are different. Up here, they’re freshwater. They‘re different species.”

“You know what I mean. Don’t you ever do anything else with your sparse time?

“Like, what?”

“Oh, house painting or horseback riding, for instance.”

He snorted with laughter. “I’d break my neck doing either one. Besides, I’d be like any other fish out of water. I’d drown.”

“Now whatever are you babbling about?”

“I’d be out of my element. Just like you’re out of place up here.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you are. You belong to the big city and designer clothing and witty conversation at cocktail parties.”

“You think I’d be a drowning fish up here? I might be drowning in my own world, you know.”

He looked at her sharply. “I thought you were pretty secure in your world,” he said and glanced at her finger decorated with the twinkling engagement ring. “It fits you like a sheltering cocoon.”

“And sometimes security can smother.” She looked out across the water and frowned. “I‘m struggling, Peter. I came up here to escape Shakespeare and psychology classes and Ted Davison, but I think I’m trying to escape myself.”

“Ted Davison is your fiance?”

“Yes.”

“I expect he’s brilliant and handsome and on the rise of the corporate ladder.”

“Oh, yes!”

“And he is a problem?”

“It’s me! I don’t deserve him and the life he is offering me.”

“You deserve it, Carolyn,” he said quietly. “You just don’t know if that is what you are wanting with your life.”

“Oh-h-h, yes! Am I crazy to even be considering now accepting it?”

“That is not for me to answer.”

She shifted away from him and looked a different direction. “Thanks, buddy! For a big guy, you got some pretty fancy footwork!”

He gave her half turned profile a tolerant half-smile. “You won’t I can’t be your conscious. Nobody but you can do that for yourself.”

She folded her arms. “Thanks! Again!”

“Come on, Carolyn. Play fair.”

She unfolded her arms and turned back toward him. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright,” he said as he flicked the fishing pole causing his lure to dance just beneath the surface of the lake water. “I don’t mind being a sounding board.”

Her eyes traveled over his weathered features. “You’re a good friend, for being someone I’ve just met.”

“We have a lot in common, I suppose. And maybe you just needed a fresh viewpoint.”

She snuggled back against his shoulder. “Anyway, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he said carefully down at the crazy blonde hair leaning on his arm. His flannel shirt would probably be littered with her loose hair, but he realized he didn’t care. Her messiness and unpredictability really didn’t bother him, and that amazed him. He generally liked more order to his world.

“So that’s what you were trying to muddle out in your mind when you should have been sailing your boat. Pretty heavy thinking. Trying to find one’s self always is.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Ever find yourself?”

He thought a moment. “I don’t know if anyone ever really does.” He knocked his pipe against the boulder. “Strange, isn’t it? We’re born with such potential and then we waste a lifetime trying to figure out why we’re here. And in the meanwhile we muddle up every day we are allotted.”

“That’s what makes us so wonderfully human, Captain.”

He looked at her and frowned. But it was a frown of thought, not disgust.

 

The captain had little luck with fishing, so he saved the one fish he caught for supper and heated up some beans for lunch. After eating, he fixed up a semi-reclining bed for her beside the tent.

“If you’re up here, maybe your talking won’t disturb the fish.”

But she knew he just wanted her to rest.

She lay down and he spread a blanket over her.

“I won’t need a blanket,” she protested.

“You might get cold,” he stated as he squatted beside her and tucked the blanket around her waist.

Her arms settled on his arms, and she looked up at him with a lazy smile. “You’re so good to me.”

She saw a startled, primitive pair of eyes, and once again she felt the danger signals of being too close to him.

“Just holler if you need me,” he mumbled and moved away quickly.

Carolyn let the hypnotic warmth of the spring day lull her into drowsiness and soon she was asleep.

She awoke with a start. She had the feeling someone was watching her. She turned her head and there stood the captain, fishing pole over his shoulder and a string of fish in his hand. His eyes were an intense mixture of hurt and anger and longing. 

Carolyn had no idea what had come over him. As he walked away, she started to rise from the comfortable chair.

“Let me help you dress the fish, Captain.”

“Never mind,” came the muffled, yet gruff, answer. “I don’t want to have to pull any fish hooks out of you.”

She felt instant anger, but just as quickly cooled. Anger wouldn’t help her to understand his mood.

She watched him split, gut, and fillet the fish. Several times she saw him flinch as if his shoulder were bothering him again.

Carolyn struggled to her feet and approached him.

“Is your arm worse?”

He glanced up at her in disgust, and then turned back to the fish.

“I should change that bandage and put on more antiseptic.”

He rose, grabbed his fish, and crossed to the fire. He started laying the sticks at right angles, and she knew in a few minutes he would be frying supper.

Carolyn crossed her arms and glared down at him. “I will not eat until I have administered to that wound.”

His eyes flashed, but she looked at him with level determination. He jumped up from his campfire, tore off his shirt, and sat down on a boulder.

He stared stonily ahead as she hobbled over and ripped the bandage away. She pulled his arm aside for a better look. Little pieces of wood were still embedded in the flesh.

“Several splinters are left. I’ll have to take them out with needle and tweezers,” she explained.

He broke his silence. “It’s too sore to have someone poking around.”

“Listen, that wood is old and rotten. There’s no telling what germs are on it. The pieces have to come out.”

His blue eyes glared. “Alright. Get on with it then.”

“Bring me my knapsack,” she ordered. “And your First Aid kit.”

When he returned, she was seated on the low boulder. She hunted through the knapsack and retrieved the needle and tweezers.

Carolyn crossed her left leg over her right and used the right as a firm anchor. Then she patted her lap. “Alright, I want your chest right here.”

“I’m not doing anything so silly!”

She realized, too, how intimate the position would be for him to be draped across her lap, but now was not the time for prudishness. “I can’t reach you any other way. My hand will be steadier,” she said sensibly. “You don’t want me to stab you unnecessarily, do you?”

At last the captain knelt and draped himself across her lap. As she leaned her left elbow on his back and her small, cool hands touched his flesh, she saw a tremor go through his muscles and goose pimples rise on his skin. She was pleased that she could produce that much of a human reaction out of him, but maybe he was simply chilly without his shirt.

She tried to be as gentle as she could with the probing needle, but several times she felt his muscles tense.

“Are you about through with your torture?” he mumbled against her leg.

“In a moment, Captain.” She pulled the last sliver out and then sponged the wound with antiseptic.

“Let some blood run.”


	7. Chapter 7

“What?”

“Pull the wound open and let the blood run.”

“I can’t do that! It’s heathen!”

“It’ll wash out the impurities and stop any infection.”

She touched the poor mangled flesh. “I can’t do it. I can’t deliberately hurt you.”

“Blast it, girl! I can stand the pain.”

But Carolyn didn’t know if she could. Tears stung her eyelids as her fingers gently settled on either side of the wound. She pulled half-heartedly and some clear fluid came to the surface. The wound was already crusting, and infection could form if it didn’t heal from the inside out. Carolyn bore down hard and tore the healing flesh open. She heard the captain gasp as a stream of blood began to flow. Carolyn held the two edges of flesh apart and swabbed the interior of the wound with the strong antiseptic. She felt the captain shudder as the burning liquid seared his abused skin. At last Carolyn held the cotton against the wound to stop the bleeding.

She felt spent and exhausted. Energy drained out of her and she felt like she was going to be ill. Captain Roiter slumped limply across her lap, and she felt like collapsing on top of him. But that would do him no good. Her trembling fingers taped fresh gauze on the wound, and she wiped away all traces of blood.

Still the captain did not move. His right hand dangled from where it lay stretched across her left leg. He who was so strong and independent now clung feebly to her. It made her feel very protective and motherly. Her hand gently stroked the crisp black hair on his head.

She felt him stiffen and pull away from her. She stood as he did and helped him pull on his shirt.

“I’ll fry the fish now.” That was all he said until they were eating. He shoved his plate aside and looked at her. “If you think you could stay by yourself a few hours tomorrow, I could walk out for help.”

Startled, she gazed at him a moment. “Alright,” she said, and tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She still didn’t know what was wrong with him.

Roiter rose and clumped out of camp. Then Carolyn saw that he had barely touched his supper. Roiter did not return and Carolyn figured he had gone to see if the bridge had been repaired. She cleaned up the dishes and the sun went down. She traded his oversized shirt for the turquoise blue blouse she’d worn yesterday morning. It was her favorite blouse because it made her eyes look so blue. As she put it on, she thought of how much had happened since she’d taken it off yesterday. Then she did not know Peter Roiter and now, well, now, she thought she understood him. He was just a lonely man afraid to trust people.

And then he started acting so moody this afternoon for no reason that she could fathom. She stoked up the fire and sat by it for a long time trying to understand what had come over Roiter.

At last Carolyn grew tired of sitting alone, so she hobbled away from the tent. Her ankle was sore and each step was a tentative little hop. At last she reached her objective: a pine tree on a small rise of ground above the lapping water. Years before, someone had stripped away the branches toward the lake so she was able to lean against the rough bark. She gazed up at the bright points of light in the black, velvety sky. The moon was not up yet and wouldn’t be until after midnight. Tonight belonged to all those millions of stars up there trying to communicate to Carolyn with their feeble lights. Whether the creatures from other galaxies were friendly or not did not matter, tonight all their worlds held nothing but beauty for Carolyn. And gazing up at the stars, she had no doubts that there was a loving God watching the whole universe. For what love the Master must have felt for His creatures to have created such beauty for them.

She felt, rather than saw, the captain’s presence.

“Is this how you feel when you’re out on your boat at night?” she asked. “As if God were very near?”

A moment passed before he answered. A moment in which, Carolyn sensed, his evening’s agitation was calmed. “No, I feel closer to Him than this. Out there, it’s just me and the ocean. The stars are my only maps to home, and the Father put them up there just for me to use. I never feel alone on the ocean. He is always with me.”

Her eyes shone up at him. “What a gift of faith you have! You must share it! Have you ever thought of becoming a minister?”

“A minister? But I would have to be around people.”

“So?”

“People don’t like me.”

“They would if you gave them a chance. Why, two days ago, I thought you were inhuman and now, well, now, I find out you’re just an old softy inside.”

She sensed his bitter smile. 

“A lot of people would certainly laugh about that opinion.”

She looked back at the stars. “Just think, people have been looking at these same stars for thousands of years. Socrates, Plato, Jesus, Boris Johnson.”

“Boris Johnson?” he echoed.

“Just a common man, nobody who will ever go down in history. Someone like you or me, and yet an important individual with his own life to live. If the stars teach us nothing else, it should be that the universe is full of life, and that life is to be lived, not hidden from,” she added gently.

“How sharp are the fangs of the viper. I felt that blow, madam.”

“It wasn’t meant to be a hurting wound, but a healing one.”

The hush of the mountain night surrounded them. Carolyn did not feel alone and trapped. Instead, she felt very contented and safe. The crystal clusters of stars swirled over their heads, and the two earthlings did not speak. Silent moments slid by.

Then a falling star streaked across the sky and burned itself out in the atmosphere. Carolyn gasped at its transient beauty.

“Did you make a wish?” he asked.

“Yes. I wished we could stand here forever and watch the stars.”

He was silent and she felt that he agreed.

Then, almost reluctantly, he said, “As you so aptly said awhile ago, life never stands still. It must go forward. Come, it is getting late. I’ll help you back to the tent.” He took her elbow and guided her down the darkened slope. Once, when she hesitated, he picked her up in his arms.

“You mustn’t. Your shoulder….”

He neither spoke nor set her down. Roiter seemed in no hurry and walked with slow, measured steps. She could feel the soft beating of his heart beneath her hand and felt very contented. At the tent he lowered her to the ground. She slipped and his arms tightened around her. The glow of the campfire was on his face as she looked up in wonder at him.

“I came back to camp and you were gone,” he said softly. “I didn’t know where you were, and I felt very lonely without you.”

So that was what she had sensed. She had been too involved with stars to understand his plight. He had been panicky and scared for her safety and wellbeing.

The hard, angular lines of his rockbound face softened, and his icy blue eyes were luminous and mellow.

“I had to find you quickly,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to be alone.” 

His face neared hers and Carolyn did not pull away. She had never known such a gentle kiss as his.

“Peter,” she murmured, and his name was the tinkling of golden temple bells.

He pulled her hands from around his neck and cupped them in his big fists. His face had gelled into its noncommittal look.

“Go on to bed now.”

“But….”

His voice had an edge on it. “Go on. I’ll be in later.”

Disappointed, she crawled into her sleeping bag. Just when she thought he was thawing, he had frozen up again. She lay awake a long time, but he did not return. She finally went to sleep with the smell of his pipe tobacco smoke in her nostrils.

 

When she joined Roiter the next morning for breakfast, Carolyn had the idea that he hadn’t slept much the night before. He was quiet and reserved, but certainly not moody, so she respected his silence and kept quiet, too.

Later, she found him sitting on the ground, leaning against the same boulder as yesterday, his fishing pole idly dangling in the water. She hobbled toward him.

“May I join you?”

He looked up and his eyes had a vacant stare, as though his brain was all thought out and he had to give it time to rest now. She knew he’d planned to hike into town today instead of fishing, but he seemed reluctant to leave her and end the forest idyll they had shared for the past two days.

When he did not answer, she settled beside him, coming down heavily on his left shoulder. He reached out his hand to steady her and she leaned toward him. “Caught anything?”

He gave her a look that said ‘just you’ and then looked away.

“Shouldn’t they be biting better today? The wind isn’t as high.”

“You talk too much. You scare the fishes away,” he reprimanded gently.

Her light laughter danced merrily in the air. “No, I don’t. You do, though, with that stern face of yours.” 

He scowled at her, and then she saw a fleeting grin on his melancholy face. Maybe she was teasing the doldrums out of him.

Carolyn snuggled against his shoulder. “You know, Peter, these two days have been wonderful. Despite the ankle and the rain and all the fighting, I enjoyed being with you.”

“Did you?” he asked almost wistfully.

She looked up at his face. “Of course, I did! Don’t think that you’re such an ogre. I don‘t.”

“It took a special kind of person to see that I wasn’t. I couldn’t even see it in myself.”

“A lot of people will, if you just let them.”

“But now you have stripped me of my last defense against the world. I don’t even have my gruffness to hide behind. Now there’s no way to stop people from hurting me.”

“Last night we agreed that life was to be lived,” she said gently. “And part of living is being hurt.”

He was silent for a long time, and then he looked at her. “Will you be leaving soon?”

“My week is nearly up.”

He pulled his line in and attached more bait on it. “I will miss you.” He flicked the line smartly back into the water. “I thought I’d never say that to another living soul, but it is true.” A muscle played in his cheek. “You will go back to your sororities and parties and anthropology classes and forget everyone at Sandy Harbor.”

“Oh, no, I won’t. I couldn’t! You’re all such a part of me now. Jared and Mary and you. You’ll always be my friends.” She felt his shoulder stiffen beneath her cheek. “We are friends, aren’t we, Peter?”

His mouth set in a line and his eyes narrowed. His hands grasped the fishing pole until the knuckles shown white.

Carolyn glanced up at his clouded brow and playfully tickled the corner of his angry mouth with her index finger. “Peter? Friends?”

His granite features relaxed and Carolyn thought she saw him gave up something very important. His blue eyes were guarded with painful restraint. “Sure. Why not?” Then he turned back to his fishing.

Carolyn thought he was just having another mood. She settled against his shoulder and waited for it to pass. The day was warm and the sun danced brightly on the clear waters. She felt drowsy and very relaxed.

From somewhere came a humming and an annoying chopping sound, but it finally went away at last and the world was peaceful again. Carolyn gave into her lethargy and snuggled against Roiter’s shoulder. She felt his cheek settle against the top of her head, then they both stilled.

 

Suddenly she was fully awake. Strange voices shattered the air.

“Hey! Here they are! Down by the lake! And both asleep! Hot damn! Ain‘t that a cozy set-up?!”

Carolyn pulled away from Roiter’s shoulder and looked into the eyes of a flannel-shirted villager that she’s seen several times at the Post Office. She seemed to remember that his name was Jimmy and that he had flown helicopters in Vietnam. She didn’t like the leer on his face, and she wished he’d go away.

And then Jared was there.

“Caro! Are you alright?” he asked as he helped her to her feet.

“Just this ankle. I wrenched it night before last. It kept us from walking out.”

“And the rain kept us from coming in, even with a jeep. When you hadn’t walked out by yesterday, I got Jimmy to fly me in by helicopter this morning.”

“Borrowed if off the Air Force,” Jimmy explained. “They’ll do anything for an old buddy. Which I am,” he said proudly as if she should be properly impressed.

Carolyn didn’t like the cocky little pilot, especially when his mischievous eyes twinkled merrily from Carolyn to Roiter and back to her again.

Jared helped her to the helicopter while Jimmy and Roiter disappeared into the tent. She knew that Jimmy would note with glee the two sleeping bags lying closely together in the tent.

Jimmy threw her gear in the helicopter and jumped in after it.

“I don’t understand. Where are Captain Roiter’s things?” she protested.

“There’s no room for him and his stuff,” Jimmy explained. “He’ll have to walk out.”

Carolyn’s great pleading eyes focused on Roiter outside the helicopter door. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“I came up here to fish, remember? That’s what I intend to do, now that I don’t have to baby sit anymore,” he spit out.

“But your back needs attention. You have to see a doctor.”

“Pshaw! There’s nothing wrong with my back. Now, be gone with you, so I can do something important.”

“But….”

But Roiter slammed the door shut and stood back as the propellers started to whirl.

“Boy, if he ain’t a piece of work,” Jimmy mumbled and glanced at Carolyn. “He was actually glad to get rid of you. Guess he really is some kind of stupid recluse. I feel sorry for you, lady. These last few days must have been hell for you,” he said with a trace of sympathy in his voice. “Well, I’ll get you back to civilization where guys can give you some proper appreciation. We all ain’t like that one up here.”

Carolyn’s eyes widened. Roiter had saved her reputation with his cutting words. But Carolyn wondered how much was an act and how much was the truth. He’d certainly sounded adamant about his pleasure in ridding himself of her.

Carolyn leaned back between Jimmy and Jared as the helicopter took off. She had a brief glimpse of Roiter walking toward his fishing pole and then she saw nothing but pines trees.

The noisy helicopter prevented conversation, and Carolyn was happy for that. She felt numb. Had she imagined the past two days? Had she imagined the laughter they had shared, the closeness to God and nature that had thrilled her so deeply, and the gentleness he had shown her? She couldn’t have fancied the entire daydream. But, yet, when they had parted, Roiter’s granite face seemed as cold and set as when she had first met him.

Jimmy was able to land the helicopter a few feet from Jared’s house.

“Some piloting job, eh?” he bragged as his eyes shone with pride.

Carolyn was suddenly too weary to answer. She allowed Jared to help her out of the helicopter, and then Mary was taking her arm and leading her toward the cottage.

“Split pea soup for lunch,” Mary announced in a crisp voice. “Saturday special.”

After they ate, Mary put her charge to bed and Carolyn slept around the clock. Dr. Myers, the doddering village physician, pronounced her fit and able to travel. Since it was Sunday and Carolyn had to be back to school on Monday, Jared and Mary drove her down to Dover to catch her plane. No mention had been made of Carolyn’s two-day wilderness adventure. For their discretion, Carolyn loved them deeply.

As Jared helped her toward the airplane, Carolyn asked, “Have you talked to Captain Roiter yet?”

“He hasn’t come back form the woods, Caro. Why? Do you think he’ll be willing to talk to me?”

“He said he would.” She stopped and her soft blonde hair whipped around her plaintive eyes. “Oh, Jared, he’s so lonely, perhaps lonelier than even he realizes. But you were right about him. He’s wise and intelligent and very kind. You’ll be surprised that he’s so deeply profound, and his excellent conversation will delight you.”

“I hope I get the opportunity to find out.”

She glanced at the waiting plane and knew she had only a few more moments. “Don’t let his gruffness affront you. It’s only his protective shell. Give him your time and trust, and you will see a different person. Be good to him, Jared. He needs your friendship.”


	8. Chapter 8

College seemed so strange after her Easter adventure in Maine. Carolyn’s dorm room, the classes, the campus itself, seemed foreign and almost metallic in an unreal world. She felt she had been away from it for years, instead of a week. Pam, her roommate, finally gave up talking to her because one-sided conversations weren’t too interesting. Once, the college had been the center of Carolyn’s being. And now it seemed childish and unimportant.

Carolyn forced herself to study, but often caught herself daydreaming of velvety black nights and cold blue eyes that haunted her. Often, she heard the captain’s deep voice, and it calmed her. Or she imagined the surprisingly gentle touch of his calloused hand and it reassured her.

How she was ever able to pass her final examinations and go through the rigors of graduation, she never knew. Her father was flushed with pride that June night as he stood with her in her graduation robes. Handsome Ted in his Brooks Brothers suit and his Kennedy haircut was courtly and very solicitous to her. She hoped she hurt neither one of them that evening, but she felt like an onlooker instead of a participant in the activities. Her shaken world still hadn’t gelled, and both her father and Ted knew there was something wrong with her.

Then, a week after graduation, when she once thought she’d be marrying Ted she gave his ring back.

“But I don’t understand, Carrie. I thought everything was settled. We love each other.”

She could see the pain in his liquid brown eyes. “Oh, Ted,” she said as she placed her soft hand on his smooth face. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just need time to think.”

“You’ve had a year!” he said hotly.

“Don’t you see? I want to be on my own for awhile before I go from Daddy’s care to yours. You have to give me the chance to find myself.”

Ted’s smile was crooked. “I never really did have you, did I? I’d like to say I’ll wait for you, but I don’t know if that’s what you want to hear.” He let his breath out slowly. “Okay. You go try to find yourself and come back when you do. Maybe we can salvage something of this mess if both parties are willing.”

She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You’ll always be my friend, Ted.”

“Friend?” he hooted. “Friend?! You know, I never once thought of you as being a friend. I went straight from introductions to love.” 

And the pain in his eyes reminded her of other tortured, but silent, eyes.

“I hope you find the right fellow before you break too many hearts, Carrie.”

So did she.

Herbert Mains sent Carolyn on a trip to England and the European Continent as his graduation present to her. She walked along the corridors Elizabeth I had trod on her meetings with Essex. She dreamed along the banks of the Avon where Shakespeare must have once wooed Anne Hathaway. And she stood on the cliffs of Dover and pretended she saw the white beaches of France when in fact all she saw were steel blue eyes in the roaring English Channel.

“I swear, Carolyn, you’re not fun, at all!” Pam complained as she rolled over on her bed to face Carolyn. “We should at least be touring the Tower of London or the British Museum, or doing something like that! We‘re in England, for heaven‘s sake, where every square foot is historical!”

Carolyn looked up and blinked. Where was she? The room looked foreign, probably because it was. And what was Pam doing here? Oh, right. European tour to celebrate graduation. That accounted for Pam’s presence.

“First, I don’t get to be maid of honor for your wedding this summer, and then you’re like a zombie on this trip!”

“Sorry, Pam. I’ve got a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“What’s his name, and where did you meet him?”

“Huh?”

“What’s his name, and where--”

“Why do you think there’s a man involved?”

“When isn’t there a man involved?! Especially with you. I’d just like to have your castoffs,” Pam grumbled.

Carolyn managed a smile, the first one in weeks. But she knew it was an ironic one. “Want an introduction to Ted?”

“I’ve already had one,” she continued to grumble. “Besides, he’s not for me. I’m too simple for him, and his blood is too rich for mine.”

“Hmm,” Carolyn wondered. “I wonder if that was my problem with him?”

“I know what your problem is!” Pam declared as she grabbed Carolyn’s hand. “Come on! We’re getting out of this musty place and we’re going to another musty place.“ She frowned. “Is there anywhere in England that isn’t damp?”

“I doubt it.” But she followed Pam and begin to see Europe with all the proper attention that it deserved.

 

And then in August, she was back in Sandy Harbor. Carolyn had come up for the fishing festival, but she knew she felt nourished at the sight of the little fishing village after four months of starvation in the outside world. She felt at home.

“Oh, Mary, how good it is to be here,” she said as she turned from the window and hugged herself. Carolyn felt more alive than she had in weeks. “I’ve missed this place so much.”

“And we’re happy to have you back with us.”

Carolyn’s eyes twinkled. “I think I’d like to live here permanently.”

Mary seemed dubious. “For a city girl, that’s mighty strange talk. You might change your mind fast. Sandy Harbor can get pretty dull. You might not like this place year round.”

“I’m going to find out, Mary. I’ve signed a contract to teach English here this fall.”

Mary was stunned. “Oh, Kitten, would that be wise?”

Her cradle nickname seemed terribly inappropriate. Mary was treating her like the child she no longer was. “What do you mean?” Carolyn asked coldly.

“Well, the talk about you and Captain Roiter. It died down when you left so soon in April, and he weathered it out. But if you’re here all winter, people may remember and start speculating about your return.” Her voice trailed away.

“Captain Roiter and I are friends, that’s all. All the people in Sandy Harbor are against him. I may be the only friend he’s got.”

“You’re wrong three ways, Carolyn. The people in the village are not against him. They just didn’t know how to break through his crusty shell. But he’s begun to come out of it by himself, and people are accepting him. And he’s got at least two other friends, Jared and me.”

Carolyn looked at her with amazement and felt herself warming toward Mary again. “You and Jared? Then Peter kept his word?”

“Yes. About a week after you left, the captain stopped by to inquire about you. I guess his paying a social visit stunned us, and we just stared at him. I saw him sliding back into his shell, and he started to leave when some compassion from Jared made him grab the captain’s arm and stop him. It took forever, but my coffee and a steady stream of conversation thawed the captain out. He and Jared are just like that now. Jared is fascinated with the captain’s knowledge and faith, and not only for a newspaper or magazine article, either. Jared says that Roiter’s mind would take a lifetime to explore.” Mary got a crooked grin on her face. “Which brings us back to you. The captain doesn’t actually consider you a friend.”

“But we are friends! He said so.”

“Oh, Carolyn, wise up! What else could the poor guy say? Listen, I’ve watched him mope around here, knowing he was around things you’d touched, and he looked at me with his heart in his eyes. Look, I was only kidding when I said some girl should cut him up in little pieces. I like him, and I don’t want to see him hurting like this.”

“But he never said anything….”

“Did you ever try listening with your heart? You understood him so well in everything else, why couldn’t you see how he felt about you?”

And then Carolyn understood the dark moods after his kindness. He had been fighting against his growing feeling for her. And when he had given in and came to tell her, all she could talk about was friendship.

The surf seemed to crash around Carolyn’s head and she felt dizzy. “Oh, Mary! Oh, Mary! He’s everything I’ve ever wanted!”

“Then go after him, Kitten.” She winked at Carolyn, and the pet name from childhood sang in her ears as she hugged Mary.

 

Carolyn closed the ancient divinity book and rose from the shabby, but dustfree dining room table. The old clock on the mantel laboriously chimed five o’clock from its perch above the fireplace as Captain Peter Roiter slowly entered his cottage. His big shoulders sagged, and he walked with shuffling, dogged steps. From where Carolyn stood near the kitchen door, her heart went out to the weary man returning at the end of a hard work day to his empty home.

Suddenly, the captain stopped and she knew he smelled the pot roast on the stove and the hot rolls in the oven. His eyes came up in surprise, and she knew she had never seen such radiant pleasure in anyone’s face as when he saw her. The summer sun shone on Carolyn through the western window, onto her daintily checkered yellow dress and her shining blonde flip held back by a yellow ribbon.

“My ankle healed beautifully. See?” She twirled in the sunlight so he could indeed see the miracle of Time on an injury. “And I understand that Doc Myers thinks I’m some kind of surgeon after he saw how well I’d picked those splinters out of you and patched you up again.” She motioned toward the kitchen stove. “I thought I might serve you dinner after all those woodsy meals you fixed for me. Of course, Mary helped me get it ready. I can’t add chocolate to milk and get cocoa. Someone is just going to have to teach me the culinary arts. Know anybody who’d like to apply for the job?” Roiter only stared in disbelief, and she laughed merrily. “Oh, come on, Captain. You might as well get used to me. I aim to be around here for a long, long time.”

In three long strides he crossed the room and swept her into his arms.

“Oh, Peter, forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered as he held her closely. “I didn’t understand how you felt, how you could feel, in only two day’s time. I do want your love, darling. I really do. I’ve been so incomplete without you.” She pushed him at arm’s length and laughed lightly up at him. “Can’t you say anything?”

His face was stoic and noncommittal. “You talk too much,” he murmured, and then his lips against hers were telling Carolyn all she ever wanted to know of his love.

“You know, I think this place needs to be brightened up,” she declared as she broke the kiss and looked around.

“It is fine,” he murmured and tried to resume the wonderful kissing.

But she wouldn’t allow it. “Yellow. I think yellow. Wouldn’t you like yellow all over the house? It would make it so sunny.”

“I hate yellow,” he muttered.

“Yes, definitely yellow. Wouldn‘t you like that color?”

“Blue, to match your eyes,” he tried. “Like the blouse you wore in the mountains.” 

Her smile nearly blinded him. “You remembered!”

He sighed. “How could I forget? You’re nothing but trouble.”

She smiled brightly into his eyes. “Captain, I will not be deterred. Yes, yellow I think it will be in this house. Yellow, to match my dress and my hair ribbon and my bright yellow mood. Wouldn’t you like that, Peter, dear?”

He sighed to himself. He saw a lot of yellow in his future.

Her smile deepened. “I knew you would agree!”

He hoped she let him make some decisions in their lives. If not, it didn’t matter. As long as she was here with him, it really didn’t matter if the house was yellow or striped with polka dots. He frowned. Maybe he would have to draw the line there. But about anything else was going to be just fine.

“The girl of a thousand names,” he muttered. “I think I’ll just call you Trouble, because that’s what you are to me.”

“Oh, I am, am I?” she said coyly.

He rocked her in his arms and gave her a lazy smile. “Yes. Yes, you are. Now, hush.”

“Why?” she asked with a flirty grin.

“Because I can’t kiss you when you are talking.”

“Captain. Darling. We’d find a way. I promise. Now, about this house….”

“Later.”

“I have such wonderful plans.”

“So do I.”

She gave him a scolding look. “Everything in it’s proper season, Captain.“ Carolyn locked her arms around the captain’s neck and began to weave magic tales of their future life together. 

Roiter listened with bemusement on his weathered face and hoped that the supper didn’t burn. It smelled awfully good, and he didn’t want to miss out on a potential delicious meal. But he would, if need be. He wasn’t going to do a thing to jeopardize losing this girl in his arms. He was completely under her spell and was willing to stay that way. Forever, if need be.

Yep, it was for certain now. He knew he was a fish out of water for keeps.

He didn’t even struggle or try to get away.

She tilted her head at him. “Now, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” he confessed, helplessly. “Nothing at all.”

She smiled up at him. “Whatever you say, Peter, dear.” She gave him a coy smile. “I’ll let you make all the decisions.”

He sighed to himself. Definitely, a lot of yellow was in his future.


End file.
